


Fever

by fairytalehearts



Category: Fringe
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-05
Updated: 2014-09-05
Packaged: 2018-02-16 06:33:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2259549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fairytalehearts/pseuds/fairytalehearts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You’re gonna pull your stitches.” Olivia whispered, leaning in to kiss him. There was no denial in her tone; she was willing to risk it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fever

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for a smut challenge... I don't remember where and the prompt was something to the effect of peacoat and hot and cold. Maybe injured?

It’s just like riding a bike.

There are steps and procedures and gravity and a sense of purpose. Which until quite recently he was lacking in several areas put Peter liked to focus on there here and now especially when there was a bed and a very warm blonde in said bed.

His face feels hot and his toes are trapped under the covers but as he shifts to position his body better his toes get a blast of cold air from safety of the blankets. He sleeps much better, having Olivia cradled between his thighs.

He’s moving too much and disturbs her sleep but he kisses her forehead to soothe her.

“And you didn’t believe me when I said you’re the bad sleeper.” Olivia mumbles, her breath dangerously close to his ear. He feels something beginning but they’re much too tired to do anything about it. Her wrist was broken and he’d been shot but they were alive and warm and-

“Only in your bed because your ten blankets smother me.”

“You don’t have to sleep in sweatpants, Peter.”

“But then how will I keep my dignity intact?” He questions, rubbing against her a little too close for comfort. The doctor specifically said no strenuous activity but he’s sure between the two of them they could make it as non-strenuous as possible. Pulling some stitches would be worth it at this point- the two of them needed to be in the office in a few hours and sleeping definitely wasn’t going to happen now.

“You’re gonna pull your stitches.” Olivia whispered, leaning in to kiss him. There was no denial in her tone; she was willing to risk it.

The cast rubbed against his face, the tiny P he signed visible in the moonlight. He’d kissed Olivia many times in their relationship but he can’t help but think that this is it- this is what love is. _Partnership._ They both look like crap, in a few hours they’ll take turns disinfecting each other’s wounds. Her universal sign for ‘I’m ready’ was rubbing the bottom of his earlobes and god, he was so hot he couldn’t take it anymore.

“I’m sorry.”

Eyes filling with alarm, Olivia stopped her ministrations, “Peter! _No.”_

Whipping the covers off, he took his chance and crushed his lips against hers before her teeth started shattering. Grinning, he pinned his girlfriend to the bed and secretly delighted in the goosebumps on her arm. She wasn’t kissing him back, however and he groaned doing his best not to disgrace himself in front of his lady.

“I’m freezing, and now you want to get lucky?” They’re both cranky and on pain medication and if she wasn’t so hot he’d scrap his whole plan now and try to save his dignity. Her hands wiggle in past in waist band to sit on his hips, her icy fingers trying to get warm.

“Let’s review: Who’s hands are in whom’s pants?”

“Because they’re freezing, Peter.” She grabs for the heaviest of the blankets off the floor and he yanks it to the ground. This was obviously not going to work. But he was a man of science, so he was going to figure this out before his erection got the best of him.

“Hold that thought.” Peter grumbled, stomping towards the living room to grab his coat off the couch. The lengths he went to for sex-

“There are some days when I think that we’re normal and there are other times when I know you’re crazy.” Olivia shivered, gracefully pulling off her long sleeve t-shirt and donning the coat over her cast. “Happy?”

He was very happy. Something about a woman in his clothing was attractive in general, but she’d only buttoned up the last few buttons leaving her breasts exposed to the cold. He could probably stare at her like this for hours. She had laid back down on the bed, his coat spread out underneath her.

“I really do love you, Livia.” Peter mumbled, roughly pulling down his sweat pants and kneeling down beside her. She nodded in understanding before he unbuttoned the last two buttons and brought their bodies closer together.

Angling himself just right, he sunk into her center, the familiar rush of pleasure welcome to his senses. The rough wool scratched at his thighs, but he didn’t care his mouth eager for anything to kiss to keep him silent. He tended to run at the mouth when they were like this, connected as one.

Neck, breasts, mouth, he left a trail of ‘oh, god yes’ and ‘harder’ in his wake, Olivia knowing just when to squeeze him harder or to shift her hips in time with his own. He couldn’t breathe when they were like this, so close to-

Olivia comes hard, a mouth full of curse words tumbling out of her lips. The sudden shift in pressure is all he needs to join her, getting the last few thrusts out before collapsing on top of her. Peter’s sure he’s got rug burn or a death wish but looking down at Olivia, positively glowing and spent, he’s definitely ready to go again.

“I’m sorry I was cranky.” Olivia’s eyes always turn a bit more green when she’s apologetic and he nods sleepily. They’d both in a weird mood.

“I know.” Dropping a kiss on her collar bone, her neck, he felt his erection stiffening, ready to go again even still inside of her.

“I love you.”

Peter recognized that tone, “Olivia. _No_.”

He’s not exactly sure how she does it, but she manages to flip them over before she sits up, the new angle sending a jolt through his senses. Praying that his stitches hold, she ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’ and ‘fuck yes’s herself ontop of his newly hard cock and it feels so good he can hardly stand it. Olivia bites her lip to stop from calling out but she rides him so deep that he can’t do anything but grip at the mattress and try to keep from coming.

The last time she did this, he bruised her thighs for the better part of a week.

She bent down to kiss him, his peacoat pooling around the two of them. He couldn’t think about her legs or her womanhood, no he had to focus on the periodic table or the decimals of pi while she was giving him drugged kisses across his mouth while she continued to ride him.

Olivia was too flexible, too good-

He comes harder than before, his hips thrusting up for purchase in her wetness, the orgasm lasting for what seemed liked forever, “Oh, _Peter_.”

 She hesitantly rolls off him, gasping for air.

His vision swims in front of him, his heart not able to keep up with the oxygen intake necessary, “Jesus, Livia.”

His hands are shaking and the urge to sleep is so consuming but he can’t not touch her, be near her after that. Fumbling for the buttons to his coat, he does his best to keep her warm as she calms down her fingers blindly grabbing for his own.

She giggles suddenly, between gasps for breath, “I think I ripped your coat.”

“I’ll get a new one.” He pants, nuzzling the side of her face.

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Fringe and I make no profit from this work of fiction. Also i suck at smut. Apologies in advance.


End file.
